


so i bare my skin and i count my sins (and i close my eyes and i take it in)

by nicotinedaydream



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Hand Jobs, I mean the bad guys obviously, Knifeplay, M/M, Victor is secretly a subby puppy convince me otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:49:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23615500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicotinedaydream/pseuds/nicotinedaydream
Summary: Victor Zsasz has a ritual. Trust Roman Sionis to break it.
Relationships: Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz
Comments: 7
Kudos: 96





	so i bare my skin and i count my sins (and i close my eyes and i take it in)

**Author's Note:**

> I am gay trash for this ship fight me
> 
> also hopefully this aint too ooc lol

Victor Zsasz has a ritual; for every life he takes from this earth, he takes a blade to his skin.

Roman may keep faces as souvenirs, but Victor's are a whole lot more personal. There's no need to, but if he wishes, he can recall each person's death by the single scars marring his body.

The Golden Lions business man who had declined Sionis's invitation of an allegiance. The pretty little song bird who, even with her powerful voice and her fighting spirit, never stood a chance. They were just two, to name a few.

Tonight's ritual is not meant to be unlike the rest.

After their bloody battle with those stupid, now dead bitches, Victor happens to be preparing for his usual routine, but those circumstances change when Roman pulls the knife from his hand.

"Let me do it."

Victor recognises the low, aggressive tone, and the combination of that calm tide of emotion in the man's eyes as he holds the weapon is what leads his decision.

"'Course, boss," he replies. It's easy to give up control when it's Roman. Anyone else, Victor would be snatching the knife back and jamming it down their throat.

"Of course… yes…" his boss murmurs. His voice is soft, his unmoving gaze on the floor so very vacant. Victor almost thinks he's looking at a ghost, for a second worried that Roman Sionis has finally lost his damn mind, but then he's already snapped out of his listless trance, staring at Victor intensely. " _Well_ ," moving his other hand in a wave as he does on an order, impatient, "get undressed."

Victor should have expected the demand, but it still manages to surprise him. He does not let it show in his posture or expression as he removes his shirt. Weakness is not in his blood, and he will stand in front of Sionis without the slightest inflection.

"Mmm, yes, yes, good, very good," Roman hums, pleased. Victor hesitates, a strange heat rising in his chest at his boss's focused attention. "Oh no, keep going. You're not done yet, Mr Zsasz." His eyes linger on Victor's pants, lips twitching.

Victor's own lips quirk up a tiny bit at this, the warmth in his chest flowing down to someplace else, as he lets out a rough bark of laughter. Any satisfaction on his boss's face drains inhumanly fast, until there is none left; another volatile switch in his mood Victor is far too used to by now.

"Just… just fucking _shut up_ and _TAKE THEM OFF_!" his boss shouts.

Roman Sionis has lost it. Again. This sight would be hilarious if it were caused by anyone else, but it is because of him, and that's not at all the intention he was trying for, so Victor steps out of his pants as well. He reminds himself it's only natural to follow his boss's authority when he feels a small discomfort at his nakedness.

" _Perfect_ ," Roman exhales, all of his anger leaking away in his next breath. Victor stands there, silent, watching eyes rake over his body, and finds his unease begin to settle the more his boss's gaze strokes his ego. "Look at you. _Fucking_ beautiful."

"What." Victor can't help the flatness of his response as he raises an eyebrow, disbelieving. His boss might be eccentric, very much so, but calling his right-hand man _beautiful_ wasn't exactly normal behaviour. 

Roman sniffs, not yet getting violent, but close to it. "You know what I mean, Victor, _fuck_!" He steps forward, touches the sharp tip of the knife to a sliver of flesh above his heart. Victor does not flinch. He remembers the reason for that particular scar; some unlucky mercenary who had tried to kill him, shoot him straight through the heart, but had missed. " _These_ are beautiful. Oh no, no, you're just a canvas, but _this_! _This_ is the _ART_!"

Victor had never thought of his body as art before. However, he did pride himself in his precise knifeman-ship. Every cut had to promise blood, to be clean, deep enough to leave its mark. If it didn't hurt like a bitch, it wasn't worth the pain.

Trusting Roman to do this and not fuck up is, well, it is what it is. The man never wants to get his hands dirty, but apparently tonight is somehow different.

"Got anything in mind?" he asks, lowering his eyes to the knife still pointed toward him. Roman clicks his tongue in careful consideration as he stares at Victor's body, _hmmm_ 's, before shaking his head, a slow grin appearing on his face.

"How about _you_ tell _me_ where you want them, hm, Zsasz," he says sweetly. His fingers dance down Victor's chest, nails almost sharp as the blade, and when they stop they brush right up against something he never imagined Roman's delicate sensibilities would be able to handle touching.

Is this a trap? A game? Whatever it is, Victor is not too sure if he should be second guessing it while Roman Sionis holds a knife in one hand and his manhood in the other. Danger is quite normal for Zsasz, but theatric and unpredictable as his boss is, this is by far more dangerous than his everyday dealings with the criminal underworld.

"I told that Harley bitch I was savin' a spot for her… right…" Victor traces a finger over the place he'd picked out,"… _here_." He smiles, a thin stretch of lips, an animal baring of teeth, filled with poisonous intent. "You should've seen her face. Like a scared little kitty, boss." Meows to emphasis his point, chuckling.

Roman's grin widens at the sound, matches his own, he's sure, but with more evil sincerity, of course. Got to give credit where credit is due. "' _Kay_!" he exclaims happily, and Victor can only think to assume that if both his boss's hands were not occupied, he would have clapped in childish glee. (Doesn’t mean it's not bright and glinting in his eyes as he makes the cut across Victor's chest, though.)

Victor sucks hot breath between his teeth, prepared for the sting, but not for the squeeze to his cock at the same time. He's never gotten off to the ritual before, the notion itself neither having crossed his mind. In these moments, he'll be too busy concentrating on the hold of his blade, the pressure he'll use, and then focused solely on the pain. Not on the… pleasure.

Pain isn't meant to feel like _this_ , is it?

"Boss…" and aw _shit_ , his voice is scraped raw, fucking gravel and stone caught in his throat, and heavy, wet rocks lodged in his rib cage. "What are you—"

" _Sssssssshhh_ ," Roman shushes him, but's it's not an agitated snake hiss or impertinent demand for quiet like usual. It's a velvet rumble, cooed into the side of his face, against his jaw, and when the slice of blade pierces deep into his flesh, grip around his cock tightening, it pulls a slurred groan of defeat from his lips.

Whatever the man was trying to do to him, it was working.

"R-Roman," he sighs, using his boss's name; they're past any possible extention of professionalism by now.

"Ah, yes, there you are," he hears his boss's satisfied murmur under the rabbiting beat of his heart and the rush of his blood in his ears.

This… this was unlike anything he'd ever experienced before, and, _fuck_ , Victor Zsasz had done _a lot_.

Victor can feel his wound bleed down his stomach, can only imagine red dripping onto the expensive white tile underneath their feet, and wonders if he'll get punished for it later. Roman's sluggish strokes are torture enough, he thinks, not fast as he would touch himself. Whenever he goes to move his hips, push forward to find more friction, his boss stops, waits, silent, until Victor lets his body relax and resumes obedience.

Roman laughs, the sound dark and fleeting. "Mmm, you know, I think I prefer you like this. Desperate." He positions the blade, angling it different, the sharp tip tearing into the meat of his clavicle, cut much deeper than the last. It hurts so _good_ , Victor can't help but moan hoarsely. "But none of that. You move only when I tell you to. Is that fucking understood? Do I make myself _fucking_ clear, Zsasz?"

Victor nods without a thought, almost whining pathetically, has to swallow and pant, hide his shame, when his boss starts on the third tally. How many were there? He can't remember, too far gone to process anything but the hand bringing him closer and closer to the edge. Victor lifts his hips again, arches into the rhythm, following it, trying to chase it, letting his eyes close as the air shudders out of his lungs in quiet gasps.

But then Roman stops.

"Do what I _fucking tell you_!"

The slap across his face comes out of nowhere, and his release instantaneously follows. Victor, lost in the waves of agonising ecstasy, trembles helplessly with the onslaught of sensation, mouth open on a wordless shout of surprise.

It takes a minute or two for him to regain clarity, and Victor doesn't realise what's happened, blinking away the smallest trace of tears in his eyes, until he sees the disgusted, withering expression on his boss's face.

" _EW_!"

Roman's suit is noticeably ruined. Of course, Victor need not think too hard about what it is exactly; his softening cock pretty much sums it all up.

"I'm sorry, sir," he whispers, tone rough, vocals torn from their earlier use. Victor drops to his knees, looking up at his boss through half-lidded, lazy eyes. No other words are necessary. Roman catches on quick, his foul mood draining away, anger from his come-stained suit momentarily dismissed at the sight below him.

"I'd like to think so," he says approvingly, the shine in his eyes dangerous.

Victor doesn't wait another second, all too eager to please his boss.

By the time he's got his mouth on Roman's cock, and a hand around his throat, adding extra constriction to his already blocked airways, he has already forgotten about the tally not being right.

Roman Sionis has big plans later for those particular scars anyway, 'kay?

**Author's Note:**

> I might write more depending on if anyone is interested idk, tell me what you think beautiful people?


End file.
